Swords, Sorcery, & Self-Rescuing Damsels

by Jody Lynn Nye

  Tinvo started walking toward the fields beyond Yendy and Granfer’s house.

  “We not fly? Why walk?”

  “I need to get used to having you and the saddle on my back.” Tinvo stretched, paused, turned, stretched again, then shivered. “There. It feels all settled now.”

  “I not too big?”

  “No.” Tinvo unfurled her wings and jumped. And landed with a thump. “I need more air under my wings.” She jumped again, bringing her wings further forward, and they were flying.

  “Oh! Oh, Tinvo! This better than anything.”

  Tinvo brought her wings down again, remembering to cup them. They rose higher. There was a small flicker of flame streaming from her nose. Startled, she forgot to cup her wings and she felt herself losing altitude and control. She quickly brought her wings back up, cupped, and pushed down. That worked. “This will get easier with practice.”

  They came back from their first flight all smiles and laughter.

  “You are only to fly from here to Tinvo’s cave and back, and not every day. This will make Tinvo’s muscles stronger and you, Yendy, you will learn to be still.” Granfer’s eyes twinkled, while his voice kept its seriousness. “And Tinvo, I want to hear about any problems you have with this saddle.”

  Tinvo nodded.

  Over the following week, Tinvo and Yendy made several short flights and Granfer made slight adjustments to the saddle. After two more flights with no adjustments, Granfer nodded. “Now I’ll make you a new saddle, one you can use for many years and wear with pride.”

  In the next weeks, sometimes Yendy walked up to the cavern and Tinvo walked her home. Sometimes Tinvo flew to Yendy’s and they flew back and forth. They worked out a communication of touch for the roar of the wind swept their words away. Thus nearly four weeks passed.

  “Granfer, me and Tinvo like these.” Yendy held out a small bag. “You put on new saddle? Please?”

  Granfer opened the bag and poured out a few golden trinkets and a string of glowing pearls. “I believe I can.”

  The day finally arrived. Granfer brought out a beautiful custom saddle and harness of brown and red leathers. It was trimmed with what they had brought, as well as some trinkets Tinvo had never seen.

  “Oh, those.” Granfer waved his hand. “Just a few bits and pieces the villagers gave me. The word got out what I was doing. They just came and dropped them in my hand.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what’s got into them, even Old Knarl, who’s so tight-fisted he won’t share a seed for planting.”

  Tinvo and Yendy flew a little further each day. Tinvo got ever stronger, and Yendy more confident. Their joy blossomed. They ranged far afield and called themselves Yendy-Rattlescale.

  ~***~

  Elmdea Adams lives on a windy ridge near Berkeley Springs, WV, where dragon’s-breath fogs often rise from the valleys. Her previous adventures include Fortune 500 management and work as a past-life therapist, which are more related to one another than one might initially think. She and her husband appreciate the skilled supervision of their cat, Miz Alice.

  For more information, visit www.ElmdeaAdams.com.

  WATER AND LIGHT

  KATIE CROSS

  Rocking waves woke Avelina before the cawing gulls pecked her skin off. A whisper washed through her mind.

  Avelina.

  She popped one eye open.

  Streams of light barreled through slants in a wooden box that surrounded her. No gulls, then. She must have just heard them.

  She lay curled on her back, knees tucked into her chest, strands of thick black hair clinging to the boards. She recalled only a few memories. Running as fast as she could. Blood roaring in her ears. Footsteps following. The Royal Guards tailing her. “You and your crazy Papa...you’ll die, magic holder. Just like the rest!”

  Papa’s twisted, horrified expression. Blood spraying behind him in crimson arcs. The screams of those dying in the massacre. Papa sliding the wooden lid shut, encasing her in darkness, before she’d passed out.

  It must be, he said, lost to his usual ramblings. What they don’t have is the key.

  She blinked.

  He was gone. She knew he was gone. She shoved it away. Papa was gone and the most recent Wielder massacre was behind her—she hoped. Now she had to get away, to the promised lands. She’d be safe there. Safe to work as much magic as she wanted. Maybe even safe to swim in the ocean.

  The distant sound of male voices filled her ears. She felt around her prison with her fingertips. Hard wooden boards. Sun streamed from above, which meant nothing blocked her from escaping. Her body ached. A hot pit, like liquid fire, burned in her stomach. Weak. Tepid. With her mind, she reached out, feeling. A few blips of magic spoke back to her.

  Swish swish.

  Reassured, she pressed her fingertips into the boards above and pushed them up an inch. They gave way soundlessly, allowing a ribbon of light to spill across her face. Avelina peered out. As expected, she rode on a ship. Merchant ship, if the rigging meant anything. Broad canvas unfurled above her, rippling in a steady wind. Beyond it, an endless expanse of sapphire waters stretched out. When she attempted to look to the side, a wooden wall blocked her view. From what she could see, no land lay in sight.

  Another good sign.

  There was no way of knowing what ship she was on, whether they’d be friendly to a magic holder or a stowaway, or if she was any safer here than fighting the Royal Guards. Had Papa known the captain? Or had he simply stuffed her in a crate to spare her life, then gave his own? With Papa, one could never tell.

  Like a heartbeat, the magic reminded her of its presence.

  Swish swish.

  Growing bolder—and with her throat aching for fresh water—she slid the lid off enough to allow her head through. After ducking down, expecting to be caught any moment, she peeked over the top again. Only two sailors in sight, near the wheel. She was at the back. Ahead, the wheel and poop deck were just barely in sight. Certainly not a navy vessel. Didn’t have the appearance of a pirate crew, though one could never tell these days, what with the Wielder imprisoning or killing all the magic holders to take their powers.

  Nothing for it. She’d have to make a break when the sun went down.

  Legs twitchy, she settled back in the box, leaving it open just enough to admit light, casting the darkness off for a swampy dim. The whisper, Avelina, quieted as she did.

  Just as she found a tolerable position, the top disappeared. Light poured over her with blinding force. She recoiled. Seconds later, a hand reached down, circling her arm. Someone jerked her out of the box. She bit back a cry of pain to glare instead.

  An odious man with a swollen nose and beady eyes stared at her. His white skin, pockmarked and bright red from the sun, seemed to ooze grease.

  “Well, well,” he muttered. “What have we here?”

  She snarled. He sniffed. Then he turned to the side, to another odious man.

  “Magic holder. Smells like cinnamon.”

  Someone guffawed. Avelina attempted to wrench her arm free without success. The foul man shoved her in front of him. He stared hard at her, eyes narrowed.

  “So familiar,” he murmured. His head tilted back. “What’s your name?”

  She spat in his face.

  He shoved her ahead of him with a growl. “Get walking, little girl. Cap’n will be happy to see you.”

  ~*~

  Avelina struggled as she walked, but only because the idea of following his orders made her want to vomit. She stumbled along, tripping over her sluggish feet, which had fallen asleep in the crate. Firm hands jerked her along.

  They carted her across the deck, toward an open doorway near the main mast. A relentless sun beat down, heating the air, making it swampy. Not even the occasional cool mist blowing up off the side could soothe her. Every droplet that touched her sank into her skin. The burn in her belly awakened for a moment with a little sigh.

  “Get on your knees,” her captor growled. He shoved her down.
Her knees slammed into the deck. She gritted her teeth and suppressed a cry.

  A man with oily black hair and glittering eyes stared at her with a narrowed gaze. A dingy gray shirt with a black vest covered meaty shoulders. Criss-crossing lines slashed over the vest, as if he’d been hacked by a knife. Resting in the middle of his chest was a massive bauble, glowing a bright sapphire. It was dim. Low on magic. Of course such a filthy man wore a medallion.

  Pirates, for sure. No doubt in a stolen merchant vessel.

  “What have we here?” he drawled. His fingers twitched, as if they wanted to reach for something. His nose lifted. He sniffed. “Ah, a magic holder. Cinnamon, is it? What is your power, girl?”

  “Turning ugly men into more attractive toads.”

  He barked a laugh. Someone nudged her in between the shoulder blades with a boot—none too softly. She snuck a quick glance outside. An empty horizon on the left. Distant hints of land on the right. A pirate and a coward. Not even he, whoever he was, dared to sail into empty waters and encounter the Wielder Queen.

  The captain stared at her with a studious gaze.

  “Who are you?”

  “I can’t remember.”

  His brow lifted. He swept one hand in front of him, ruffling a tuft of fabric at the wrist.

  “Your name?”

  “No.”

  He pressed a hand to his chest. “Drake, if you were wanting to know. Your father is Ansel, magic holder with wind. Madman.”

  She kept from flinching by sheer willpower. Papa wasn’t a madman...although he wasn’t well.

  “Odd,” Drake murmured, shaking his head. “Very odd.”

  He exchanged a look with his servant, one she couldn’t read.

  “The chances,” the man whispered, but it trailed away.

  “You’re going the wrong way,” she said. “The magic supplier is the other direction.”

  The land was on the right side of the boat. If he was going to the magic supplier to fill his medallion, the land should have been on the left. She could smell the acrid, vinegary stench of his breath from steps away.

  “I’m not going to the magic supplier.”

  Her forehead creased in silent question. She tried to smooth it back out, but it was too late. He grinned.

  “I’m taking you to the Wielder Queen.”

  His wicked, wild laugh rang out through the air. All the blood drained from her face. The Wielder Queen. The wicked magic holder that had betrayed her race. She consumed the magic of other holders, sometimes to murderous effect, and had started a war on the mainland that was affecting everything.

  A mere touch.

  They grabbed her by the arms and dragged her back. She kicked and flailed all the way back to the crate. After they’d stunned her with a blow across the cheek, they shoved her back into the box.

  All fell into darkness.

  Avelina.

  ~*~

  They had always underestimated her.

  Avelina had lived her life expecting people to believe her capable of less than she really was. A girl. Under fifteen. Black skin. Full lips. Bright blue eyes. No mother. Daughter to a magic holder—but a weak, half-crazed one at that. Papa had too much heart to really use it. Instead he walked around, mumbling under his breath. It isn’t ours. It isn’t ours. Surrender. It’s the only way.

  Once she recovered from her daze, her thoughts gelled into different paths. Something about their conversation didn’t sit right. Several moments of wiggling, cursing, and attempting to recall the snippets passed.

  Then it clicked.

  He’d been sailing the direction of the Wielder Queen before he spoke with her. That meant he’d lied. Or he’d been planning to see the Wielders before he knew about her. He must have someone else.

  In the darkness of the crate—which was almost complete now—the whisper returned. Avelina.

  She mentally reached into her belly. The magic was still weak, but there was a fraction more. She kicked the top of the crate.

  “Let me out! If you want to keep your ship, you better let me free.”

  Someone chortled. She thumped it with her flat palm, but it didn’t even budge. Some chubby sailor sat on it, no doubt.

  “I have more power than you know!”

  Another laugh. Her nostrils flared. She could have more power. If they were attuned to magic holders, they would have known that she was running low the moment they saw her. Or smelled her. But what they didn’t know would hurt them.

  Avelina felt in her belly with her mind again.

  Not enough, she thought.

  Then she banged again.

  “Let me go! This is your warning. If you don’t listen, you’ll regret it!”

  ~*~

  She screamed, warned, and banged for an hour before someone dumped a pail of dirty water on the top of the crate.

  “Shaddup!” they yelled. “Or I’ll fill yer crate ‘till ya drown.”

  Yes! She wanted to shout. You fools!

  She sputtered as water streamed into the small space, then sloshed around her back and shoulders. Magic activated, flaring like heat as it lapped up water like a dying man.

  Swish swish.

  Avelina sank her fingers into the water, drew in a deep breath, and relaxed. Just a little sleep, a little time to let the magic calm. Then she’d act. She fell to sleep on the only reassuring thought she had.

  When she woke, they’d regret their decision.

  ~*~

  Hours passed.

  When she woke up, still in the crate, her head rolling groggily to and fro, she had the impression that evening had settled. Cool night air poured through the holes in the crates, admitting no light whatsoever.

  Avelina, whispered the voice.

  As always, she ignored it.

  The water sloshing around her was gone—the wood bone dry in its place. Almost too dry. Cracks and ridges formed along the bottom. Her belly burned hot as a furnace now. Not full. Not empty. By no means satiated.

  But better.

  Her ankles were numb. Her knees prickling. She flicked her skin to wake it, then swallowed. She should have demanded water. Said she was on the brink of death. She wouldn’t be any good if she were dead.

  Something she may have to count on.

  Avelina closed her eyes and forced out a long breath, then released a portion of the magic. The top of the box shot away like an arrow. Overhead, a thousand stars sparkled. Her confinement disappeared. A rush of wind swept up her back. She rose above the ship, belly flaring with heat, her arms and legs spread wide.

  The magic burned deep inside. For all that men coveted magic, would do anything to be able to control it, they knew nothing of what it cost. The scooped, wrung out feeling of her soul. The weariness.

  The constant, constant burn.

  Sailors moved about their duties, seeing nothing unusual at first. She observed beyond them. Past them. Behind them. Through pursed lips, she let out a single note. A high pitched trill. The water around the boat started to vibrate. Life hummed, squealing in her ears.

  The magic burned hot, hot, hot.

  Come to me, she sang from her mind. Release my bonds, set me free. Take me to the places promised, where magic can be.

  The song floated past her, over to the sea. She couldn’t go to the water—to submerge herself in the ocean would kill her. Too much magic, too much power.

  Never go, Papa had always said. Never, never. Surrender only. Never, never.

  The magic hovered like a delicate glass over the water. Then it cracked, shattering, and littered the waves with a staccato. Several crewman whipped around. The water had grown agitated. They shouted. Someone spun, pointing to her. Avelina felt a bit of air moving past her feet—they were grabbing for her. But she hovered too far above them. They couldn’t get her.

  Come to me.

  Fins appeared on the surface of the water. Glinting flashes of silver. Then thousands of bodies—small, but nimble. A snarl. White caps. Blown air. The water filled
with new life around the boat. Avelina reached deep into the magic, setting it free. It always did what it wanted. Instead of coming to her in the air—replenishing her reserves—it sent creatures.

  Come to me, she pleaded.

  She didn’t have enough to maintain this.

  Crewman darted around the deck, stumbling to their knees when the ship pitched side to side. A swarm of fish moved below it, spinning in a circle.

  The magic in her belly dimmed.

  Come to me, she sang, frantic. Take me to the lands promised, where magic can be.

  A sailor screamed. Another fell into the jaws of a great white shark. Blood blossomed in the water. Avelina sucked in a sharp breath when a cool wiggle cut through her stomach. A warning.

  No, she said. Not yet.

  Another.

  “No!” she cried.

  Something dark broke out from the boat, near the main mast. A shadow. No, a cloud of black. It climbed the sky, then covered the moon. Darkness fell with a gust of wind and a breath of disbelief.

  Drake’s remaining magic in the medallion.

  He wielded darkness.

  Avelina, came the whisper.

  Below her, the sea stirred. Clashing waves slammed against the hull of the boat with wild slaps. Her body dropped. The burn ceased. Blood tinged the white capped waves to a frothy pink, staining the ocean with inky spots.

  Her song stopped.

  Frantically, she clung to the final tendrils of magic still humming through her body.

  Come t—

  She gasped and hurtled through the air until she landed on the deck with a heavy thud. The rocking stopped. Avelina shoved herself to her feet, but fell again, feeling as if all the blood had been drained from her limbs. She crawled toward the side of the boat.

  She’d have to get in the water.

  Just as she scrambled to her feet near the edge, a hand clamped around her ankle. She whipped around with a cry. Drake’s rotting teeth smiled. The white caps disappeared back into the ocean. Only the occasional flash of a shark fin continued.